If you’ve lived in Minnesota for any amount of time, you know that neighbors and snow removal are intimately connected. Following a big snow, like the one we experienced last week, it is not uncommon in many neighborhoods to find neighbors shoveling or snow-blowing one another’s sidewalks and driveways, extricating vehicles from the piles of snow left behind by the city’s plows, or just leaning on shovels and having a conversation. It’s a beautiful dance of neighborliness and conviviality that warms the heart on even the coldest of days.
When my wife and I moved into the neighborhood where we live, the neighbors across the street would often send their six children, armed with shovels, to help us dig out our exceptionally long driveway. The two oldest, both boys in high school, could make short work of the accumulation, chucking snow over their shoulders. The younger kids would help as much as they could, but often ended up playing in the snow piles we were slowly building.
We grew to know these children across the street (they’ve since moved away) through these small neighborly practices, and the youngest would often come over to play with our dog or show us something he was building from strings, sticks, and old toys. When he got further from his house than we knew his mother would like, we could call him back and he knew to listen. We heard often about the kids experience at school, what the high school students were imagining for colleges, and received invites to games and performances they were a part of.
John McKnight and Peter Block, in their book The Abundant Community, write,
“Today, it is clear that the most effective local communities have reclaimed their youth and assumed primary responsibility for their upbringing. The research on this point is decisive. Where there are ‘thick’ community connections, both child development and school performance improve.” Knowing the kids across the street wasn’t just a benign kindness, but was part of creating a social fabric that contributes to the wellbeing of the whole block. And it started with shovels and snow.
When we were gifted a small snowblower by my father, Kristin discovered that she had a knack for snow removal. She pops in headphones, starts the little Toro, and blows snow until there’s nothing left to remove. Once she clears our sidewalk, she will often just keep on going, first with our next-door neighbors walk and driveway, then the next house, and often the next…One snowy day two years ago, I found her a block away snow-blowing someone’s walk. And all along the way, she met neighbors and got to know the community just a little bit better.
“The place to look for care is in the dense relationships of local neighbors and their community groups. If they have a competent community, it will be because they care about each other, and they care about the neighborhood,” say McKnight and Block. We could pay professionals to remove snow from our walks and our driveways, or we could rely on the deep connectedness of our neighborhoods to assume responsibility for a vital community function. Clearing snow is one of the small ways we practice community care, and if you have someone like my wife in the neighborhood, it’s also a lot of fun.
It’s easy to take things like shoveling and snow-blowing for granted, but it is these little acts of neighborliness that when done with intention build connections and relationships and contribute to the social network and wellness of a community.
Through these small acts of neighborliness our block has built a level of trust and connection that makes us feel safe, secure, and known. I know if something breaks in my house I can knock on Joe’s door for advice. If I’m out of butter, or really craving Little Debbie’s, I know the ladies next door will have something to share. And, if I need advice about battling the rabbits who keep eating the bark of my new apple tree, I can walk across the street.
It’s not what I get from or give to my neighbors that matters, but the trust and connection we’ve built over the years. Connected communities are safer, healthier, require less policing, and contribute to the flourishing of children. And that trust is built through small consistent practices of showing up for one another.
So remember, helping your neighbor clear their walk, or receiving that help from a neighbor, is not just the kind thing to do, it’s actually contributing to the flourishing and the well-being of your community. The little things matter and in Minnesota, there’s nothing like a big snow to bring neighbors together around the little things that have big impacts.
McKnight, John; Block, Peter. The Abundant Community (p. 21). Berrett-Koehler Publishers. Kindle Edition.
In my old Washington, D.C. neighborhood, Ms. Thelma (Mitchell) would spend a decent amount of time with her grandkids on the front stoop. She knew every person who walked by and who they were related to. She’d call out, “How’s your cousin doing since the accident?” or “You’re out too late, young man. Get your butt home or I’ll call your mama.” She was a connective thread.
Ms. Thelma had lived in her house for 30 years and had never her Texas landlord. She had made all improvements in the house herself over those years, even while paying rent. One day I sat with Ms. Thelma and we figured out that she had likely payed for house three times over during her living there. She raised her second family there. (Her first family were killed in a house fire before she moved to the neighborhood.)
But she lived in this neighborhood for more than 30 years. That kind of consistency lets you get to know everyone and their relationship to each other. In a transitory society, we have lost much of that ability to draw the lines of connection.
Of course, gentrification finally hit that neighborhood, and Ms. Thelma was priced out. The neighborhood got wealthier. But it wasn’t healthier after Ms. Thelma left.